


A Bene Placito

by Fangirlinit



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/F, First Time, Mentions of Violence, Pining, Porn With Plot, Roman Britain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-25 01:15:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20368222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlinit/pseuds/Fangirlinit
Summary: Astra is a commander in the Roman army undergoing a grueling campaign in Britannia. Alex is a native Briton who is itching to prove herself. Unfortunate circumstances bring them together, challenging their views. Getting to know one another doesn’t happen overnight, but in time they begin to compromise, leaving the door open for change.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "A bene placito" means "at one's pleasure" in Latin. Astra speaks Latin here, so I have incorporated just a few Latin terms one can easily find through a Google search. For those of you who are wondering, yes Alex speaks Latin as well. Being a Celtic Briton, her native language is Common Brittonic, however at the time of this story, the Romans have occupied her homeland for several centuries, allowing Latin to spread and be picked up by the Britons.

_During the remaining months of their three-year campaign, the Roman areani have served their emperor faithfully behind enemy lines. Although these scouts are not Roman citizens, they have been involuntarily recruited from a young age to brave a commitment of 25 years before being released from service. So far from their homes, the years have stretched on long enough for the memory of friends and family to fade. In so doing, they are eager to return to lost lands. _

_Their trek across the island of Britannia brings with it many hardships of terrain, climate, and feuding native tribes, but it is nothing they have not weathered before. They are disciplined fighters, albeit weary in spirit and longing for respite. _

_In the year 368 C.E., their time in Roman-occupied Britannia signifies an endless war between the Britons and Saxons, one which they have been caught in the middle of. They did not ask to be brought there. They are as good as slaves to the emperor Valentinian. If given the choice, they would shirk the promise of citizenship all for the chance of freedom to live as they choose…_

A crackle of bark tore Astra from her thoughts. She turned in time to see the fizzle of sparks flitter up from a log being placed on the campfire. The sight of its red-orange flames wrapped her in a sense of security hard to come by at this time of night. The sputtering and cracking soothed her, almost to distraction from the creeping gloom.

Astra didn’t necessarily mind patrolling alone. Her soldiers appreciated the time to speak freely amongst themselves. She liked to hear the echoes of their laughter, so easygoing yet wistful on the wind. Sometimes the laughter was the only thing keeping her from deserting. Her soldiers, loyal and hardworking as a sheepdogs, reminded her that there was more beyond the next campaign. There remained an objective in all this. A means to an end. Something, somewhere, was waiting for them. A family member, an inheritance, mangy dog blessed with long life and bad breath.

A tumble of logs spat more heat as dusky embers floated up. Astra followed them to the featureless clouds. More laughter was followed by a challenge and some roughhousing. She sighed, too unbothered to remove herself from watch. Instead, she closed her eyes, enjoying the crackling ambiance and the sting of smoke in her nostrils.

Lane sure knew how to nurse a fire. Being raised in a climate similar to this, rain soaked and bracing, must have taught her the urgency involved in keeping warm. Although not all of her soldiers hailed from a frozen hell, they were experienced in survival tactics. They had all suffered through the same training, endured the miles of trekking over hostile terrain, shared the stickiest gruel, and laughed themselves stupid over the local mead. Together, bound by hardship and a common goal.

The surrounding fog felt cloying at the back of her neck. Her feet were antsy to get moving. The weight of her gladius pressed to her hip, serving to remind her of the lives it had taken and will continue to take. She surveyed the area. A languid stream ran past about a quarter of a mile west. She could just barely hear its gurgling snores. That and the creaking of the wood. Oak trees with roots stretching deep underground were as ancient as local druidae mythos and had survived as many if not more elements of ill than all of the Roman army combined had. Astra peeked to and fro, catching glimpses around scraggly trunks. Her eyes pierced the shadows. The oaks were spaced far apart but were clustered enough to conceal the light of their camp. Save for nature’s breathing, nothing struck her as particularly notable or a cause for concern. Just an ordinary forest.

Astra uncrossed her arms and finally left her post. She walked past the individual tents prepared by her soldiers, each one decked with a bed roll and blanket. Personal items such as religious idols and heirlooms of forgotten significance remained private within their domains. Not a single weapon could be found unattended because necessity required them to be worn at all times. Of course, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t find a spare dirk under a blanket. Astra smirked as she stepped past M’gann’s tent, practically smelling the iron loot stowed beneath the bedclothes. She must have come from a spartan homelife because she couldn’t keep her hands off a new toy when she saw one.

As Astra drew closer, the fireside chatter grew distinct.

“… I’m just saying, there’s a right way and a wrong way to incapacitate a target without exposing yourself to an unassuming foe.”

Kane rolled her eyes, swirling the dregs pooling at the bottom of her cup. “You don’t have to sound so superior about it. We all practiced the same tactics, Sawyer.”

M’gann raised a brow. “Unlike Lane here, who came into the world with a silver spoon in her mouth.”

Unaffected, Lane focused on her lap. She nibbled her lip, concentrating on the woolen undertunic that had last seen battle. She sewed the torn sleeve closed with deft motions of her fingers, but Astra knew better than to think she wasn’t listening with half an ear.

Sure enough, Lane spoke up. “Kane,” she mused, a slight lilt of humor at the back of her throat, “wasn’t your father involved in the Parthian wars? I thought only decorated officers had the luck to make it out alive.”

M’gann chuckled into her cup. “She’s got a point.”

Kane snapped, “As if your tribe wasn’t the only one to be occupied.”

“Oh, I remember.” M’gann shook her head. A sudden weight sagged her shoulders, dispelling all traces of humor. She paused, deep in thought before speaking in a slow, low voice that could not be mistaken by those sharing the warmth of the fire. “It’s not hard to forget when I’m complicit in it all. You know it and I know it: Rome swallows land like gluttons. Once they conquer, they leave the people in destitution. Nothing prospers, not the economy or native religions or their damned way of life. Whatever remains is allotted to governors too high class to wipe their own asses. All while Rome’s treasury grows fat on the suffering of others”

“You’ve kept your rustic beliefs, so why am I surprised?” Kane muttered wryly. Not in offense for they have lived and died beside comrades who did not conform to Constantine’s mandated Christianity. “If you feel that strongly against Rome’s intentions, we could just kill the Senate. Knife to their pretty white throats. Easy as pie.”

A dead weight of silence ensued. Everyone there understood the consequences of Rome’s wealth. All the majesty of its capital, the flood of silks and heaps of spices; it all came at a cost.

“All this talk of bleeding throats…” Sawyer huffed, thrusting her dinner bowl away from her. “Well, I’ve lost my appetite.” But not before tearing one more bite off her portion bread.

“How can that be?” Kane gaped. “You once took down a Saxon patrolman on his lunch break. And _you __made him vomit through his nose_,” she intoned as if Sawyer was stark raving mad. “It was ghastly. _Oy gevalt_, if you’re going to attack a barbarian unawares, deliver a bit of dignity to the man.”

“At least I accomplished the task without snapping a dozen twigs in the process and revealing our location to the entire party. Unlike _someone_…”

Annoyance flooded Kane’s cheeks. “Argh! Can you be any more subtle?”

“Come off it,” griped M’gann. “We all have our specialties. Sawyer just happens to be the slickest bloodhound that ever lived.” Before Kane could interrupt, M’gann jabbed a finger in the air to silence her. “Sawyer could take down an assassin before we ever bat an eyelash. We all know it and are too ashamed to admit it sober.”

“I think it’s the other way around,” Lane said, reclined back on her elbows, giggling. “She's already drunk as a thrush.”

Likening the mercenary to a drunk bird tottering through a vineyard should have provoked a surly response. The others held their breath, wondering which of the hidden dirks would threaten an appearance.

M’gann thought seriously about it for a moment before shrugging. “I’ll believe it when you pass me that,” she said, holding her cup out to the nearest broken oak trunk, far from the jug of warm frothing mead she intended.

They erupted with laughter. It wasn’t long before another jug from their recent conquest was passed around.

Unbeknownst to the group, Astra grinned with amusement. Practical jokes and rivalries happened to be a common centerpiece to their nights, especially following a battle when wounds were fresh and in need of a little salt to stay the reality. The jabs might have seemed harsh to an outsider, but sometimes drawing a bit of blood cemented their allegiance to one another. No one outside their company had earned the honor of causing offense.

Still, someone unfamiliar to their ways would have cause to wonder. Such banter was traditionally reserved for arms-bearing-men, not childbearing woman. Unbeknownst to scores of barbarians, her soldiers did not always need to bear arms to crack a few nuts.

She approached, light of foot but apparently not light enough to fool her chief scout.

A quick spring of a head. Eyes discerned the intruder. When Sawyer shot to her feet, the rest followed like overeager spring daisies.

“Commander,” they greeted in unison.

Astra nodded and they returned to the warmth of their seats.

A cluster of bowls lay on the ground. All but one had been cleaned. Astra frowned. She ate her helping of stew about an hour ago when it came steaming off the coals. Not before her soldiers served themselves and certainly not until Sawyer threw in an extra sprig of rosemary for the constitution. She had tasted better rabbit. A very long time ago. Then again, the palate of a child could hardly be relied upon. Judging by the empty bowls, her soldiers didn’t know rabbit from venison. Such was the hazard of being a foreigner in these lands.

Still, the stomachs of her compatriots did not explain the lone serving of stew. Motionless shadow beckoned her gaze to the young woman siting against an oak tree. She gave no sign of distress. Silent as a grave stone. Astra didn’t know whether that concerned her – or if it _should _concern her. The woman remained close enough to be kept an eye on and just short of privacy. Her position in respect to their camp should be Astra’s only concern.

Astra stopped at the circle of bodies lounging around the makeshift hearth. A gentle warmth tingled the front of her body as she faced the flames.

“Any signs?” asked Lane.

“Not tonight.” The niggling feeling persisted; such an unreachable itch she couldn’t place. “I take it you finished darning that shirt?”

“Yes. Better than new.”

“Good. It will only get colder the further east we travel.” She made sure to seal her message with a glance at every one of her soldiers. “I know how you all loath to complain, so make sure your uniforms and armor are up to the task.”

A few chuckles sprang forth. Being on campaign together for twenty-four years took ‘complaining’ to a new level. Their idea of it hardly matched the norm. It had become an ongoing joke recycled even by their commander. Astra didn’t mind; as long as it kept them on their toes.

Once again, her gaze drew back to the cluster of bowls. “Have I not been working one of you hard enough? Or are we simply not in the mood to eat?”

She didn’t bother catching their looks. She brought her hands to her hips and ground her teeth until the muscles in her jaw twitched. “She hasn’t eaten? We’ve been riding without rest for two days.” A clear and present tension thickened the air. Most eyes around the fire darted in the same direction. She directed her question to their source. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing,” reported M’gann. She gestured to the waning flames licking the stone circle. “We were about to feed another log.”

It was intended as an invitation. Astra nearly broke a tooth. She unclenched her jaw, drawing on the ache spent in self-control. If only this ‘invitation’ had been delivered as such. Her soldiers may be cold and tired, but they were lacking in etiquette. A no doubt hungry woman sat close enough to smell the burning of an envious fire. And there the last of her mighty unit sat, cheeks rosy and bellies bursting. Surely the cold hadn’t impaired their eyesight.

“You did not think to offer nourishment to the civilian in our protection?”

“Isn’t charity for beggars?” M’gann rolled her shoulder as if shrugging off any fear of reprisal. “I have heard not one peep from our resident prisoner.”

“Prisoner,” said Astra. She tasted a slight bitterness in the word but not in spite of its target. Somehow, ‘prisoner’ did not fit in this situation. They had taken captives of war before. None as obstinate as the Briton woman. Nor as fine.

M’gann picked up the remaining rabbit stew in a halfhearted effort. Before Astra could doubt her own motives, she stood and swiped the bowl from M’gann’s hands.

“Commander?”

“Your fire is dying. Gather more wood before your friends forget the warmth of a good deed.”

M’gann’s gaze flew to the healthy pile of fuel stacked not far. “But –“

Sawyer’s boot cut the reply with a swift kick. Glaring, M’gann rubbed her greave-less shin.

Murmurs were exchanged but Astra tuned them out. She walked purposefully away, boots sinking into damp earth. The chain of command shouldn’t leave a commander to deliver rations. That duty lied with the lowermost ranks. Resorting to such lengths would have given the impression that Astra had no authority, much less a structured unit. When it came down to it, frankly, she was more upset with M’gann’s behavior than having to do her job.

In the time it took to close the distance, the worst of her mood had been dispelled. The Briton’s head hung low as she sat hugging her knees to her chest. Astra couldn’t tell if the cold had gotten to her or if the position was an attempt at self-comfort. Long brown hair dangled over her knees, concealing her face from anyone who cared.

Astra cleared her throat. The woman didn’t give any sign of being caught unawares. Somehow, that didn’t surprise Astra. She bent down on one knee and handed out the bowl.

Without looking up, the woman who called herself Alex took it wordlessly. The corners of her mouth crinkled downward, seemingly not for the rank smell of the bowl’s contents. “I’m not anyone’s charity.”

“So, you overheard.”

A gasp and then her head bolted upright. “I’m not a spy!” Despite the vague light from the campfire, it managed to bring out the outrage on her face.

“Speak a little louder and perhaps I will believe you.”

A beat later, Alex’s brows twitched up in hesitant aghast.

Astra grinned halfheartedly. The dour circumstances that had brought them here forbade anything more than an attempt at humor. She knew the woman’s loss. Deep crinkles persisted, telling tales of woe Astra would never be privy to. Not when she donned the blood-red symbol of the enemy.

Silence brought Astra’s gaze to sharpen. Alex clutched the bowl which remained an afterthought. Being the brunt of an ill-landed joke pushed her into a vacant stare, one which settled on Astra’s maroon cloaked shoulder. Probably masterminding ways to destroy the thing.

There was no blaming her. Astra had failed to prevent the Saxons from destroying the small hamlet. Days ago, her and her unit had spotted the gathering smoke from afar and followed it to disaster. Bits of broken earthenware speckled the ground amongst the blood and bodies. Roof thatching had burnt to ashes. Some of the women were stripped bare, their pale limbs stark against the soil. None of Astra’s soldiers reacted in any outward fashion, be it nausea or seeing red. These raids were something of a recurrence in the north. The nearer to the Wall,[1] the more frequent the scent of smoke; and where there was smoke... death followed on its heels.

Constant exposure to it hardly took away their empathy. The areani had seen enough to know how to channel their anger into a useful profession. No one saved lives by sobbing about it. Astra, however, didn’t need to see the half-moon rivets in their palms to know their fury. They were furious alright. They were simply saving it up for the moment when they caught up to the Saxons.

Astra didn’t count the dead that day. She focused on the survivors. Of the five shaken Britons, one woman stood among them to recount the attack. She had long, tangled brown hair. A layer of soot from unextinguished fires marked her hands and cheeks. Her boots were caked with blood and dirt; probably vomit too if her pale complexion had been anything to go by. Astra remembered spotting the blood on her shirtsleeves, wondering if she had tried to help one of the wounded or if she had managed to slow down the vermin responsible. Either way, the Briton looked to have been in the thick of it. A sure mark of a daring individual. A cleaner, fresher looking survivor would have nursed their ego in safety. Not this young Briton who vowed for payback. If Astra didn’t know any better, hell itself had spat out a demon in the form of this alluring female.

A far cry from the cleaned-up version sitting before her now, though no less removed from the revenge-bound brave one of a fortnight ago. She was strong despite the hunger, determined under the unsympathetic stares of her guardians. And despite conflict of interest and a score of other regulations, Astra… liked her. What an alien feeling to have towards a stranger she had met a week ago, to wonder over the life of someone she hadn’t fought beside nearly her entire adult life. It never occurred to her that she might respect someone outside her unit of areani. The philosophers would say that liking could be found in many places and in varying degrees. Astra had read these adages and pondered over them in her off time. But this stirring of fondness for the Briton… She didn’t expect to find it in this life.

“Do you always insist on hovering over your charges?”

The question jerked Astra back to the present. She blinked, studying the annoyance puckering Alex’s face. “Perhaps I admire you and I’m too proud to admit it.”

Alex snorted. “You need to work on your powers of persuasion. That or your humor is off.” Before Astra could correct her, she made herself clear. “I’m a grown woman in no need of a husband or a guardian. This is not a mission to return a maiden to safe quarters. We have a contract, you and I. I lead you to the next Saxon camp, you help me get my revenge. It’s been days of rabbit stew and hovering. You have yet to keep your end.”

Astra’s hackles rose. “I made no such agreement. If you happen to be present at the time of our confrontation with the Saxons, my soldiers will do what they can to protect you, as they do all native Britons. It is the vow they made when becoming soldiers of Rome.”

“Do you always mistake duty for admiration? When we make camp, I know why you leave the comforts of soldierly company. You come to pity me.”

When Astra swallowed the lump in her throat, she felt her temper slipping. Her gaze dropped to the earth made mossy by endless rain. “I’m here because I want to be.”

“And what do your soldiers think of that? Their commander spending time with a Briton?”

“Does it matter? To train you would entail being in your presence.”

Alex straightened, her widening eyes eager out of turn. “You _will _teach me?”

“If I do consent, my soldiers will be the least of your concerns. Training in these conditions,” Astra surveyed their wet surroundings, “it would be difficult for one such as yourself –“

“I was born here. I know the terrain better than you.”

“And we are already on constant watch. I could not spare the time to give comprehensive lessons in self-defense.” Astra paused, the strength of will carved in Alex’s expression reminding her of just who she was talking to. “However, there may be shortcuts for one as experienced as yourself.”

“So…?”

The woman’s persistence was growing grating. Astra fought a roll of her eyes. “I will consider it.”

A smug grin affixed itself to Alex’s mouth as she leaned back against the oak.

Astra decided that she would part company with this Briton before being ensnared in another contract. Shaking her head, she made excuses for the amusement softening her worry lines. She left the rabbit stew in capable hands. It must not have been too disagreeable for the spoon was methodically scrapping the bowl’s sides.

She headed towards her tent for much needed rest. The soil yielded to her footsteps with a soppy squishing noise. Four strides out, she stopped. She turned around, catching Alex’s eye.

“You have seen and done things some Roman officers have not experienced in their 25 years of service.” Astra paused before her breath caught midsentence. The forest air lifted her heart into her throat. She couldn’t explain why she had fought battles more heart racing than speaking plainly as she did now. “I want you to know that I see you. I see you and I commend you for what you’ve done to survive.”

Alex stared openly, perhaps blind to the fondness in the words. Her mouth parted, bottom lip peeling down to… to what? To sigh, to gasp, to sting or to request more? More of the tenderness in Astra’s fingers which curled around an absence of touch? In acceptance of the liking in Astra’s intentions? To offer appreciation for a compliment so rarely imparted?

Astra swallowed again, with difficulty, and turned before she could find out.

* * *

Astra couldn’t escape the past. What could now be calculated as two weeks ago, absorbed her attention all morning as they rode over grassy hills. The wind gathered her hair and pulled it in jerking motions. Her view ahead encompassed her fellow soldiers as she took up the rear. She found that riding last gave her certain advantages, one being keeping tabs on everyone, another for the solitude. It allowed her to reflect on what had come to pass – the previous battle with its missed opportunities and successful tactics – while moving towards the future. She didn’t give herself the chance to get stuck in her own shadow. Having fought so many skirmishes on so many countless fields, she barely remembered all of them anyway. But not the last one. The razed hamlet and the Briton in their company would not fade from her memory.

One of the horses snorted. The shushing voice calmed the mare down. Astra peered ahead to see Alex pat her steed’s neck. Horse and rider carried on in companionable silence. Astra drew a grating sigh. Having nothing else to look at but the bobbing figure, she decided that she had sufficient justification.

Her gaze traveled over shoulders and back. An off-white woolen tunic kept the chill at bay as well as prying eyes. Lane had lent a spare shirt after the one Alex had been found wearing was chucked into a fire where it belonged. No one, least of all Alex, expressed their sadness to see it burn.

It should have been a chilly morning. The sun beat down from a cloudless blue sky. There was nothing else to blame the heat under her collar on, so Astra continued her study. Well balanced posture… steady grip… shoulders pulled back and revealing a hint of shoulder blades… Alex was deceptively slim, although Astra knew better than to make such an assumption. Any experienced rider could discern another by certain cues: their posture, the pressure of thighs against the horse’s sides, the measure of their grip on the reigns, how they held their head, how the corners of their mouth crept up to show gladness…

Astra scowled at herself. Perhaps that last one had no business being itemized. How was she to help it, though? Whenever Alex turned in her saddle to laugh at a joke Sawyer made or teased Kane when said joke brought on agitation… there was no ignoring it. Who could turn away from a sunrise? Astra wasn’t sure she had ever seen a smile like that. Certainly not two weeks ago.

Upon first meeting Alex, scrawny though she may have been, there was no mistaking the gravity of her gaze that day. There was ample suspicion among the surviving villagers, none more than their representative who introduced herself as Alex. Astra had to make several vows and lay down her gladius to convince her that they were not aligned with the perpetrators. Although Astra had no interest in helping these people rebuild (such domestic efforts did not align with her strengths), she offered her services in killing the people who had sacked their village. But accepting aid from a Roman was easier said than done.

The hatred for her rank, her purpose in being there - she smelled it every waking minute. Since landing on Britannia’s shores, it was as if the very act of setting foot in the sand had cursed her. Cursed in so many ways. The numerous clashes with Saxons across the length and breadth of the continent could not be counted. They bled into one another, confusing time, place, tribe. Astra had been at this so long, fighting and riding and spying; the repetition only left her with memories of their last battle. Three battles ago? Twelve battles ago? Astra was at a loss for broad strokes. It was tedious, this game of guarding the Wall, keeping the barbarians out and the Britons within as secure as they allowed. The guerilla tactics of the Caledonians and Saxons wore down military auxiliaries tasked with protecting Rome’s interests on the continent. Auxiliaries like Astra’s unit.

In the years she and her soldiers had campaigned in Britannia, the barbarians had picked them off like fleas on cattle. Being the primary targets wherever they marched had a tendency to deter a commander from her objective. Being on constant watch, day and night, wore her down. Sometimes she forgot why she was there. Then that obvious red cloak would stand out and remind her of her orders: “You are an agent of Rome. The emperor Valentinian has tasked you with a heavy and noble duty. Make your empire proud and you will receive all the rights a Roman citizen deserves.”

Agents of Rome. Essentially, spies for the empire. Astra’s areani were specially trained to scout the land in search of intelligence to supply the generals. Intelligence came in the form of movements of barbarian enemies, their numbers, and the matter of their supplies and weapons. Of course, there was also the reporting of disturbances among neighboring peoples which tended to upset the native Britons. They wanted to be left alone, yes, but what of their protection? As soon as the Saxons plowed in, sacking their homes and stealing their women, who but the Romans could safeguard their lives?

Astra could do without the pressure. And the prejudice and these wishy-washy Britanni. While she had an ongoing list, one might as well add a reprieve from Saxon conflicts to her wishes.

Astra sighed and nudged her horse on to make up for her lagging.

Maybe that was the problem: she wanted too much. This land had left her longing for the unattainable. Sometimes she wondered how different things would be if she had not been recruited into the Roman army. She could have grown up beside her sister, already married and a mother at seventeen. She could have known her niece whom she saw in every young village girl. Astra felt the smile on her mouth. The thought of finding them was tempting, but no less arduous than her current troubles. She would still have to deal with barbarian raids and long winters, but not as a soldier. Not as a stranger who hadn’t seen home in over twenty years.

In any case, her most recent encounter with the Britons drove a bit of a wedge between her and her unit. Her soldiers didn’t want to waste time in the village. They were anxious to pursue the Saxons, and the longer they dallied, the less successful the results. Astra knew the time sensitive nature of a fresh trail, but there was something about Alex that made her pause and think.

Her patience was rewarded. Apparently, in the chaos of slaughter, Alex had used her wits to trap one of the Saxons. He lay tied up in the cellar with a purpling goose egg on his temple. As her soldiers sulked around making excuses for their disdain of the Briton, Astra couldn’t help but smirk at the resourcefulness exhibited. Alex couldn’t have helped their cause more lest she dressed the man in bow and bonnet.

For the next three days, their company made do with the addition of a peasant and a Saxon. Unsurprisingly, the former seemed to be the most agitated by the barbarian. There were moments the vile looks provoked outrage, forcing Astra’s soldiers to restrain her from doing any further damage. Concussion aside, the girl could have dealt a lot worse. The livid fire in her eyes spoke to the lines she would cross to ease her own pain. Alex had insisted she sit in on the interrogation. The ache in her eyes nearly reached pleading. The hunger in her growl could have belonged to a wolf. She was impossible to refuse.

Alex had been there from beginning to end. From warning sting to shuddering demise. No one spoke afterward. In their short time knowing Alex, they had never before seen her behave less than adamant. She had a passion about her. Not anymore. Silence and despondence enraptured her. They could not have dug her out of this self-made pit any more than they could deter that need to stare malevolence in the face. She had insisted on participating as nothing less than an observer and observe she did.

The deciding vote lied with Astra, and seeing the expression on Alex’s face when the Saxon sat tied to the oak, they both knew she had walked in on something that could not be erased from memory. As commander, Astra had a responsibility to protect the people of Britannia. Being a stranger in her native land, however, charged her with the duty not only to protect their lives but their dignity as well. She made her choice and she almost came to regret it.

* * *

Early evening arrived. Sunset slipped below the hills, the atmosphere making its pink edges hazy. They made camp in a clearing of vibrant green. Although the openness of the site endangered their position, the nearby tree line obscured their smoke. After the tents had been pitched, M’gann returned with sustenance Sawyer could turn into a fragrant meal. Supper consisted of the usual fare found caught in a trap. Still, patrol duty had yet to be scheduled. Astra left her soldiers to argue amongst themselves. They would agree eventually.

She strode away from camp in the direction of the lake. Last she saw of Alex she had taken her food and requested to take a walk to stretch her legs. Just why she sought to eat away from the others Astra didn’t know. Lane had been the most welcoming in recent days, setting an example the others had soon followed. The contrast between their contempt of two weeks ago and their present camaraderie might have provoked whiplash if Astra wasn’t so familiar with her soldiers’ character.

The horses hardly cared. As long as their hooves were tended to. The journey for rider, however, proved back-aching and boring. Riding with the same companions for years tended to suck the excitement out of their days. With a new addition to their company (albeit a temporary addition), fresh air and purpose had swept through them. Here was a native Britanni, a woman with startling capability who had no qualms about speaking her mind. These Roman soldiers rarely embraced new blood, so they must have seen something in Alex worth the effort.

Surprisingly, it seemed that M’gann had taken a shine to the Briton. Perhaps it had been the swift chops of a sword demonstrated by Alex. The soldiers were keen to observe someone of their sex in action; M’gann, their resident swordsmith, keener than the rest.

Astra had kept an eye on them, oblivious to the bottom lip left scarred over her worrying. If M’gann didn’t tread carefully, she would find herself disciplined, and none too gently. If any one of her soldiers lent a blade, a lesson, or took it upon themselves to make a promise to train Alex, there would be hell to pay. They had their orders. Astra had her reasons.

A sufficient woodland hugged the lake, making bathing or daydreaming on the bank a private venture. Matted grass in the shape of footsteps led to an open stretch. Astra followed the trail past the last shrubs and peered ahead to find that it reached the lapping shoreline. And Alex.

She lay on the grass, fully clothed, ankles crossed. Her hair was damp, perhaps from a swim in the lake. Astra would have announced herself but she hated to disturb the peace. She couldn’t help her lingering gaze. The pale skin of Alex’s feet brushed the grass, toes blindly grabbing for a blade before the breeze pulled it out of reach. She gave up with a sigh. 

“I know it’s your profession, but must you spy every minute of the day?”

Astra cleared her throat in case she spoke what first sprung to mind. She came around so that they could speak directly. “Does it bother you so?”

“When my back is turned, yes.” The eyelashes fluttered open. She searched the distance. “It is past sundown. That _stroll _over Pennine must have tired me out more than I thought.”

The little smirk over her emphasis showed just how humorous Britons were about their native terrain. A love-hate relationship some might call it. For Astra, the terrain didn’t draw her in so much as the smirk at its expense.

She worked her mouth into a response. “Would you like me to leave?”

Alex shrugged. “Stay.”

The offered spot of grass looked dry. Astra sat down, at once pleased by her surroundings. Wide open space complemented the lake’s mirror surface. She found she could breathe easy before the stretch of water. But it did take some effort. Was this truly what she missed between the battles? Perhaps she should be spending more time away from the stinking fire and smell nature’s air as it was meant to be.

Alex had pushed herself upright, legs crossed and brushing the grass blades off. A deep blue cloak lay at her side, a parting gift from one of her village’s survivors. The way she held it close one would think it a lucky keepsake. She threw it around her shoulders, fastening the brass brooch below her chin. The only other possession in their vicinity was her supper.

“It is not to your liking?” Astra nudged her chin at the bowl’s untouched and by now cool contents.

“Maybe if I was a dog.” The arch of Astra’s brow didn’t seem to caution Alex as intended. “You’ve been here, what, a few months? And you haven’t learned to cook a roast?”

“Two years and seven months.”

“What?”

“My unit arrived at Rutupiae during the summer, two years and seven months ago. At that time, we were 80 strong.”

“Oh.” Alex’s face morphed from overconfidence to regret. Glittering brown eyes wilted. This being more than a matter of cultural standards when it came to food, she seemed to take the information in stride. “It must be difficult. I’ve lost friends, but not at the expense of anything I did.”

Astra tilted her head.

“Gods!” exclaimed Alex. She held up her hands to beg forgiveness. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that I don’t have any responsibility to anyone. My parents are gone. I have no siblings. I…” She chewed her lips, staring at Astra. “I can’t imagine what you’ve carried with you along the way.”

“That makes two of us.” Astra’s gaze dropped to the blade of grass her fingers had plucked up. With thumb and forefinger, she traced its smooth length in methodical strokes. “I can’t remember who my sword struck at one time or another. There are too many limbs to retain to memory. My only means of calculating my time here lie with my soldiers: their campfire dreams and midnight wishes. They are eager for respite and do not hesitate to share their aspirations with one another. I hold onto them more steadily than I do my hilt.”

“Do you sleep?”

“When the cicadas persist and the wind howls,” Astra replied. Her black humor drew a frown from Alex. “I sleep as long as there is adequate noise to drown out my mind’s ravings. Silence, with all its subtle tranquility, has a tendency to alienate any efforts of sleep.”

“And now?”

Astra grinned tightly before looking out over the water like an envious guardian. “It has its uses. Although, I don’t know what to do with it – the stillness, the innocence of nature going about its business, all this softness… I’m used to sharp objects and blunt commands.” Astra smiled a grim smile. “I have been in war longer than I have not.”

“That’s not an excuse. It’s a lie. People tell you that and you have no reason to doubt them. Because you don’t remember your life before the army.” Alex leaned in, head tilted curiously. “_Do _you remember?”

After a while, Astra felt that Alex deserved an answer. “It’s not discussed,” she said, scrubbing her forehead in reluctance. “Generally, we leave it all in the past – families, the solstices and feasts, bad blood between friends, making new ones, young love… None of us know for sure when our time is up. It doesn’t bode well to talk about home, especially if we might never see it again.”

It suddenly occurred to Astra that a similar misfortune had befallen Alex. The encounter with Saxons had burnt her hut to cinders and stolen her sheep, essentially depriving her of a means to support herself. Yet she was not completely without means. What she possessed came from the head and the heart. When they first met, something burned in her, whether vengeance or guilt, Astra couldn’t discern. But she was not taken aback by the fire in this young provincial. She had seen the strength in the women of these lands. If ever they were to gain their autonomy, it would be by the ingenuity of a woman such as this.

It was only through Alex’s strength of will that Astra consented to bring her along. She could not refuse this woman her revenge. Not when she stood tall, blood soaked and committed. It should have been a mistake. In the beginning, her soldiers had compelled her to face the oversight in allowing the young woman to accompany them like an eager whelp. Such inexperience in the realities of battle only hindered them.

Suddenly, the silence became palpable. She dropped the blade of grass left kinked by her fidgeting and looked up. She found herself being stared at in rapt devotion.

“I want to be like you,” said Alex. Her chest rose and fell, the vehemence in her voice quickening her breath. “I want to make them bleed before me.”

Astra shook her head, more to herself. “No, you don’t. You want your tribe returned to you. Have you not sought the counsel of your creator? What has he to say? Or she?”

Alex huffed and shot to her feet. “You don’t know me. I’m more than someone’s first impression. The gods did not manage the deal made between you and I. If you paid attention for one second… You’d see that there’s more to me than poverty and rural innocence. I have aspirations beyond a farm life. _I _have trouble sleeping too.”

“I may not know your entire story, but I do know that your home was destroyed. That is honorable justification in seeking revenge. However, you must understand that anyone – male or female – without formal training cannot turn into a soldier-for-hire overnight. It is not reasonable.”

“Don’t tell me what is reasonable.” Alex kicked at a cluster of fallen branches before snatching one up. She tested its weight in her grip. Its length could have been mistaken for a short sword from afar. “You were baptized Roman in the blood of others. They may have been barbarians but even they had wives, husbands, children…“ A remark like that must have been difficult to admit. The muscles in her jaw twitched violently. “You don’t get to school me in logic when you're throwing your weight around like some damned empress and scouring this land baying for Saxon blood. At least I have a valid reason.”

She paced before the line of oaks with a vehemence that kicked up dirt in her tracks. She hefted the branch at her side like it had been forged of pure bronze.

Distracted by ire, Astra could barely keep her gaze on the pacing figure. “That’s not fair,” she countered, cheeks growing hot. “You say I don’t know you, but where is your tact when you insult my livelihood?”

The branch snapped against the trunk. Its two halves vanished into the quivering brush. Alex stomped until she was within a pace of Astra. “If you have _any _idea of what I’ve lost, you would give me what I ask!”

“Ask? Hm, it sounded to me like a command, not a request.”

“I won’t be bullied by you. A fucking _Roman _no less.”

“Sit down.”

“I’m _not _your soldier!”

Astra fueled a sternness into her gaze and repeated gently, “Please sit down.”

Alex resisted a beat longer before giving up. Her expression fell and she returned to her spot on the grass. Her shoulders sagged. The fury exhibited moments ago had cooled. Now she just looked defeated.

The simpering immaturity had not looked attractive. Astra’s mouth twisted uncomfortably. The Briton could probably be forgiven, considering the circumstances and any others Astra was not privy to. A life without parents or siblings could have demoralizing effects. Her tribe must have been her only family. When Astra thought about it, if she were in Alex’s position, she would have thrown her weight behind the tree branch as well. Astra herself spent her adulthood under the supervision of military officers. No parents in sight. She certainly understood the loneliness that spurred people to behave in extreme ways.

Astra decided to take the conversation in a different direction. Something had been pestering her for days and she couldn’t leave it alone any longer. “A few days ago, you mentioned the importance of our contract.”

“Which you have yet to fulfill,” Alex pointed out, a bit of fight awakening in her.

The severity in her narrowed eyes looked to be in jest. Astra wondered if the past few weeks had weakened her own eyesight or were softening Alex. “You said that you were not a maiden to be rescued, which I heartily agree with. There are not many non-military folk able to catch a Saxon unawares, much less hold them captive. You also mentioned your indifference towards a husband and a guardian.” Astra gaged the expression before her and came up empty. She caught her bottom lip, making use of the moment to make sense of the missing pieces. “You were never married?”

Alex looked away. Whether she did so to conceal reddened cheeks or a pale brow, Astra couldn’t tell. Nothing in particular seemed to catch her attention. She simply could not hold Astra’s gaze. Or speak for that matter. With a lethargy that rivaled a sloth, Alex stood up.

Had she pushed too far? Astra bit into her cheek, ashamed of her inability to restrain her brutish curiosity. Spending one’s adult years conversing at the point of a sword had a tendency to stall normal social development.

She quickly rose to her feet. The air had thickened between them, slowing her limbs and muddling her grip on the situation. She hoped she wasn’t too late. “If I have offended you, I –“

“It’s nothing. Forget about it.”

Avoiding Astra’s gaze, Alex scooped up her dinner bowl and headed towards camp. In retreat, Astra supposed, to warmer company.

[1] Hadrian’s Wall. This barrier separating the “barbarian” north from Rome-occupied south was built 246 years earlier. Astra, along with many Roman soldiers stationed in Britannia, were tasked to patrol this wall (i.e. stop invading Picts and Saxons, and tax the native Britons traveling through).


	2. Chapter 2

Astra could not sleep. The blanket felt suffocating. It bore down on her like an irrepressible fate. After an hour or two of sleepless tossing, she threw off the blanket with a huff. With boots fastened, she escaped the stuffy confines of her tent.

Two scouts stood watch. M'gann sat stationed by the central fire, Lane on the edge of camp. Astra gave wordless nods to both. She trudged on, the pops of the roaring fire growing distant. The foliage became denser and silk fronds slapped her shins as she plowed onward. She walked until the forest doused the glow of the campfire. It was a cool night and the atmosphere still retained some moisture from an early rainfall, but the mist was not uncomfortably cloying. Moonlight cut swaths through the thick air. The sleeves of her blue woolen shirt flapped in the breeze of her pace. She hated to think that the gods required numbness in exchange for a cure to her insomnia. The trickle of sweat rolling down between her shoulder blades froze in the night air and provoked a shiver. Not even her cloak could abate it.

This was what she needed. Seclusion… untouched nature… supposed peace. After wiling away in her tent sweating and counting the creases in her tent, the bracing air did her good. The steep ditch she was navigating ended in a copse of hazel. There, she slowed her pace and closed her eyes. The cooling sensation where the air met the beads of perspiration on her forehead inspired a welcome shiver. In the small, open pasture, a breeze slipped down the collar of her shirt. Astra halted, allowing the night to pass through her, around her, before moving on.

The past three days saw endless rain. Save for the casual muttering of conversation, their company did not have much to say. That didn’t mean the journey was uneventful. Astra had noticed the wandering gazes from Alex. Could it have anything to do with that day by the lake? What could Astra have said to have inspired such attention? She doubted it had anything to do with the insults exchanged between them in equal measure. Astra remembered how quickly Alex broke her gaze when questioned on her marital status, how urgently she escaped out of sight in the midst of apology. Could her sudden leave-taking be connected to these recent glances? Astra had no answers. Just those lingering brown-eyes and rain sprinkled lashes.

The looks carried a quiet curiosity. She was undemanding, and, although Astra didn’t give any sign of catching her in the act, she made a mental note of the time of day and duration these gazes fastened on her. Astra didn’t know why she took such keen notations. She didn’t know why it wasn’t a bother. There was something… soothing about being stared at like that. Astra couldn’t remember the last time she felt this kind of attention, much less the hunger for it. Her belly groaned, heedless of the soil that lay beneath her feet and the chill in the air. This was not her home. It never would be. The land, the people, and their gods would always be a stranger to her, and she to them.

Still, that gawking Briton was making her insides soften like sweet meat over coals. Astra knew she shouldn't relish the feeling but she did anyway.

The hoot of an owl brought her thoughts to the present. The forest here was dry as kindling. Earlier, their company had successfully outpaced the storm and found safe passage through a heavy wood. The arrangement of oaks, shrubbery, steep terrain, and rocky outcroppings provided cover. Astra liked the look of the place. Her soldiers would have settled anywhere so long as they had dry bedding.

Astra shuffled through undergrowth until she arrived at a clean tract of grass. Above, a sliver of moonlight broke through the opening in the canopy. If she squinted long enough, pinpricks of light would wink from their gray-blue home in the sky.

Time had little meaning here. She was quite content to stand unarmed and beyond range of reinforcements. Thus, when the twig snapped, she did not give any sign of being startled. She knew Alex was following her. Even the most ambitious survivors of misfortune underestimate themselves. In her travels, Astra had come across individuals too blinded by revenge to mind their footing. Many got themselves killed. Others drowned in a darkness of their own making.

Astra did not open her eyes. She savored a moment more in the fresh air. It was not as if she wanted the girl’s curiosity to get the better of her.

Opening her eyes, she asked, “Come to debate the terms of our contract?” A slight chortle escaped her. “Your persistence is admirable. I will give you that.”

When she turned around, she saw Alex standing a few paces away.

Alex rubbed the length of her arm, imparting warmth to the tunic sleeve. Although she didn’t give any other impression of being cold. Astra wondered if the kneading motions were a means to distract her of something.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Alex said.

Astra nodded. Save for the haggard crinkles around the eyes, Alex looked rested. Whatever troubled her kept itself under guard, giving the impression of being a well-traveled individual, one who had taken risks and experienced the indulgences of adulthood and… Astra’s thoughts slowed to a halt. She recognized a mask when she saw one. These lies staring back at her were not meant to fool others but fool the one wearing the mask.

A breeze stirred through the clearing, sweeping branches and twirling their leaves. The long strands of Alex’s hair were tousled only slightly. Her eyes were dark and liquid under the moonlight. Little trace of grief could be found there. She stood there, so strong and modest. Suddenly, Astra wanted to kiss her. Very, very softly. Before turning around and fleeing in embarrassment. She felt the heat spread up her neck and into her cheeks. Perhaps the sheer thought brought shame.

Astra blinked to find Alex unmoving. If she wanted something from her, why wasn’t she speaking? Astra took a deep breath and closed in. One step followed by another until they were a pace apart.

“You have expressed how important it is for you to train under my guidance. Is there something more you want from me?”

The column of Alex’s neck bobbed. Her eyes bore silently into Astra’s.

Astra wouldn’t take it as a "yes." She needed more than curious glances and a self-conscious gulp. “There is nothing to be ashamed of. It is sometimes necessary to ignore our doubts for the sake of our own contentment.”

“You’re a Roman. I don’t know you. I don’t like you.”

The cloak round Astra’s shoulders suddenly weighed a ton. She bit back the humorless laugh, adhering to the mantra she taught herself in times of her own self-doubt. “I am no more Roman than the Britanni recruited into the army. As far as you knowing me…” Although she kept a calm exterior, her mind was racing. She took another deep breath. It was too late to fall back. “You already know my plight with sleep. And I’m sure you’ve overheard my soldiers occasionally calling me by my given name. Regarding the rest… I remember bits and pieces of home, not enough for a complete picture, but I miss it for some inexplicable reason. I had a sister I barely recall. My most treasured memories are seeing my soldiers in good humor. I like to swim. I hate this cloak. I can handle wolves and bare-chested savages, but spiders put the fear of the gods in me. I like engineering snares and traps more than I like to hunt. Rabbit and hare are my chosen fare. And, yes, I do know how to cook a decent roast. If Sawyer allowed me to touch her cookware,” Astra added with a crooked smile. “I happen to like the cold. It makes me feel clean.” Her heart caught in her chest, trying to keep up with the self-image she painted. It had been achingly truthful, more so than her heavy tongue could express. She titled her head, expectation crinkling her brow. “Do I measure up to your criteria?”

Alex was now worrying her hands together. “Perhaps.”

The evidence of her nerves could have been seen from the highest tree branch. Astra’s chest clenched at the fraught expression staring back. Frankly, not a trace of beauty could be found in war, but she was looking at it now. “If you hated me, feared me even, you would not have followed me to a remote area of the forest.”

Alex’s mouth parted as if just realizing it.

“You have remained untouched?” Astra asked, connecting the cryptic pieces of Alex’s story.

Alex’s gaze dropped. Her lips thinned to a sour line.

“And yet you have surpassed the tender age at which marriage is a last resort.”

Those eyes flicked back and blazed. Yes, there was that fire. A reckoning. Oh, if those Saxons knew what they had coming to them. Oh, how Astra would like to unleash this vengeance upon them and see them razed to the ground.

“Fine,” Alex said in a half grumble, half sigh. “I want you to teach me more than battle tactics. Is that fair? Is that what you want to hear?”

“It depends.” Some part of Astra, not the warrior or even the occasional philosopher, urged her to step back. “Is it true?”

The space offered to Alex did not last long. Probably because it was hardly _empty _space; just a distance occupied by a heady amount of want, a gesture of respect, and an opportunity to back out.

Alex floated through it like mist. Her shoulders rose and fell with the intake of breath. She looked down to Astra’s lips before returning to her gaze. “Yes.”

It was true. “Yes?”

“Yes.”

Alex spoke the truth. Her face emphasized it in an opening of the gates. Astra could hardly give herself credit. A mere encouragement on her part. The rest had come from a brave, ingenious, exquisitely molded human by the name of Alex.

Astra took her hand at once and led her away from the clearing. Thick forest with its elevations, streams, brambles, and stout trunks served as a constant deterrent from prying. Under the shade of a natural canopy, one could feel safe that the only eyes and ears in their vicinity were their own (and the occasional owl).

A patch of grass softened under Astra’s boots. She spread her cloak on the ground and turned to meet Alex. Hesitation knotted her eyebrow. Still, her gaze was undeterred and for that Astra was impressed. She pulled her near until they were a pace apart. There was no reason to rush. She might have been satisfied with the view, and, save for the ruddy tint in her cheeks, Alex didn’t seem to mind being the center of attention. The soft features of her face, her attentive brown eyes, the small knob of her throat quivering… The nerves on display brought out the glow of her skin, making her impossibly more attractive. Even in the gray light of the moon, her flesh radiated like a branding iron out of the fire. Astra knew that the first step in easing Alex’s mind must be taken herself.

Unhurried, Astra removed her own clothes first before helping Alex out of hers. A rush of cold met her skin when she peeled off her trousers. She kept her shirt on if only to keep some warmth for Alex. The chill traveled in shivering waves despite the heat pooling underneath in places she desperately sought attention. A steady gaze followed her movements. Soon, a fierce heat crawled up the back of her neck. A strange, near foreign sensation. It didn’t make sense for her to be shy in front of someone with less experience than herself. Astra shook it off, unwilling to ascribe any meaning to it.

She pulled Alex down so they were laying together. Naked, their skin met the deceptively soft material of her officer’s cloak. The area had not been touched by rain or condensation. Strange, as a pillow of mist hung around them like a dome. Moonbeams turned the haze blue.

She wrapped Alex in a loose embrace. Hands met her chest, not pushing but verifying. Alex’s eyes measured her up, determining her intentions. How awfully thorough of her. Astra would have laughed, but she did not want to offend. Instead, she dropped her gaze and leaned forward. A hairsbreadth away, she remained still for a frustrating few seconds before meeting Alex’s mouth in a kiss. She did not intend to behave gallantly, but the caution on display motivated her. Breath and lips stuttered against her own – yielding as a ripe plum but growing daring in fits and starts, a flash of teeth here and a sliding tongue there. 

Alex’s fingers dared not stray from their grip. The blue shirt gathered tightly in the clutching fist. Astra could feel the knuckles pressing against her breast. She bit back a growl at how close her skin came to those fingers. Damn the shirt. She would go naked under her armor if it meant closer, further, _more _the next time one of Alex’s glances met her way. If there was a next time.

Excitement flooded Astra. This time, she didn’t waste time watching the movements of her hands. She liked the softness of skin under her fingertips without having to see it. The dwellings of Alex’s body gave to her touch: a full breast crowned by a pebble-hard nipple, muscular calves conveying the many miles traveled, the slight broadness of thighs catered by sweet indulgences, and the knuckles begging to take up the gauntlet. When Astra’s touch lessened to a solitary finger, she caressed slower, more resolved. Her intent must have landed successfully because the startled lurch of a stomach met her palm.

“Tell me if you don’t want this,” she murmured and kissed Alex’s jaw. She ignored the hem of her shirt riding up against the fidgeting. “I will stop.”

“No,” Alex whined, her body arching to meet the nakedness teasing her from above, “don’t stop.”

Relief engulfed Astra. She would have stopped. She didn’t want to, but she would have if asked. Now that approval had been reinforced, she saw fit to run her hands all over Alex, squeezing where she had been gentle before and nails biting just short of breaking skin. Blind touch filled her mind’s eye with a beautiful picture. The touching was indulgent on Astra’s part, but it became very clear that it only served to frustrate Alex. A keening noise escaped her while she struggled on two fronts: coming to terms with these new, thrilling sensations and returning in kind.

Alex’s fingers fiddled at the collar of a Roman tunic. Her face crumpled unexpectedly. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do…” Her fingers retreated to show their worth before landing on Astra’s arms in defeat.

Astra concealed her amusement in the crook of a clammy neck. “Does this not feel good?” At the motioning head, she withdrew and smiled down at Alex. “Then don’t be sorry.” She sealed the assurance with a kiss that Alex extended with renewed boldness.

_Gods_, she thought, feeling the tongue meet hers. _What have I gotten myself into?_

Before Astra could reason with herself, a force had taken fistfuls of her hair. Alex held fast, fueling a hunger in the grip. Astra liked it – _very _much – and bit gently on the bottom lip sliding against hers. It wasn’t long before their movements brought on suffocating discomfort. With little ceremony, she threw off her shirt and adjusted her position so that she was hovering over Alex, one hand clasping the back of her neck and the other between spread legs. She leaned forward, her gaze with Alex unbreakable to communicate her intentions. She planted another kiss and drew soothing circles into the hairs at her nape. A stuttering intake of breath met her mouth as she introduced herself. Arousal spilled between her fingers. So hot and eager… How in heaven’s name could Alex be sorry? Innocence be damned, this woman responded with all the exhilaration she could muster.

Indulgence had Astra sinking against the body below her. Oh, she nearly cried out at the feel of firm ruddy nipples grazing her chest. _Stop that_, came striking through her mind like a hand slap. She bit the inside of her cheek. _This isn’t about you._

Soon enough, Astra schooled her own desire and focused on that of the woman in her embrace. Her fingers shifted. Another gasp puffed against her. Astra spread the warm arousal along the plump lips of Alex’s sex, dipping in at the shallowest depths to test her willingness.

“You’re safe with me.” Every ounce of truth reinforced her words; strong like the “yes” Alex voiced to give her permission. She closed her eyes and murmured the words against a cheek, between kisses, again and again.

The fingers in her hair tightened in response.

Astra nuzzled into the flushed cheek, murmuring, “Do you want me inside you?”

The lack of a response caused Astra to push up and meet her gaze. Frustration wrinkled Alex’s brow. She nodded blindly, her open mouth reaching to press against Astra’s. Hard.

The force of it caught Astra off guard. Had she been going too slow? Astra liked to think she could read her lovers, but this wasn’t the time or place to have that discussion with herself.

A breathless “please” was all the encouragement Astra needed. There was no reason to drag it out. In one smooth motion, she slid her finger forward. The source of Alex’s pleading tightened immediately. Her entire body seized. For a moment, she didn’t move or breath or make the slightest sound. Astra was so close, so near, she sensed Alex poring over the minute adjustments her body made to compensate.

Even the most practiced in the game and art of fucking didn’t mean a damn if one couldn’t listen to their own body. Alex treated herself patiently (or as much as she could stand in her current circumstance). This was no girl falling at the first sign of being noticed. Not with this body. Not by the keening sounds at the back of her throat. The calculated bound of her hips proved how well she knew her own pleasure. Alex was very much a woman.

Astra could feel her arch up, so she brought a free hand to distract Alex from the fullness inside her. She wanted to tantalize her before the slight discomfort melted away _ad libitum _and eventual climax. Breast to hand, the nipple stood firm, fighting the planes of Astra’s palm. Stuttering breathes caught in the night with every incidental brush. Astra bent down, warming the surface with her breath before suckling from its tip.

A groan broke free from Alex. Her head turned away, unable to witness the wild jukes of her body. Astra would have assured her of the natural response, but she feared the interruption would only disturb progress. And that was the very last thing she wanted to do. The ache in her own belly surprised her to a point where she nearly faltered. It had been so long since she touched a woman. She had almost forgotten the smooth curves, the inviting lips, the flesh of a female so close to hers, trembling as Alex was. So long indeed…

Astra remembered back to the time she and her unit had found shelter with the Brigantes tribe. Great hearths warmed their stone-walled huts and the food was as plentiful as their amity. The Brigantes chief had been particularly welcoming to Astra. Over the course of several days they shared a great deal of themselves short of any actual conversation. But that had been months ago. That woman, generous in her hospitality, did not compare to Alex in all her shy confidence. Alex was beautiful inside, in possession of a stout heart and having potential to become more than a rural nobody.

Astra cared very much for her. She wanted to be good to Alex for the sake of being good. And to make her smile. Such feelings hardly went as deep as love. Surely.

A fog came over Astra, one she normally experienced during sex. A fog that could steal reason from slick fingers and twist designs to obscurity. But she pressed her lips to Alex’s neck, grounding herself in the beats fluttering against her kiss. Each pulse reminded her that this proved to be Alex’s first intimate encounter. Astra had the capacity to be rough – deep down a depraved, carnal piece of her hungered to thrust unendingly and to pull the moans from Alex’s open mouth – but she felt no inclination to follow that path nor to inflict the smallest degree of pain for her own pleasure. She wanted to give Alex release. And she did.

With a resounding cry muffled by Astra’s damp neck, Alex came around the fingers reaching inside her. “_Futuo_!”

Alex gasped in surprise, spine arching of its own accord and eyes rolling back. Her hips thrashed again as she panted and bit down on her bottom lip. Astra’s eyes burned from her unblinking stare. If Alex knew how wild the flexing of her body… how stunning her pale body looked on the carpet of a Roman cloak… the jumping mole on her hip… those shining droplets collecting on the down between her legs…and her beautiful heart pounding... Astra moaned out loud and pressed her mouth to a heaving breast, longing to make Alex leap into her soul.

The final expletive came muffled against Astra’s shoulder. Alex sank back to the ground. Her thighs continued to shake while the residual pleasure spread through her body. Astra restrained herself from kissing every shiver. The need to recover from such new sensations outweighed her own.

Alex curled up in Astra’s arms, relaxing in the sticky heat between them. While she was catching her breath, her eyelids fought sleep.

Long minutes passed in the seclusion of their area of the forest. It was hardly uneventful. Astra couldn’t take her eyes off the fluttering lashes and the small crook of a mouth she hoped was a smile. “Are you comfortable?”

The corner of her mouth curled up. A small grin, a long sigh, and then Alex nodded. “Yes.” Having returned to solid ground, she forced her eyes open. “Where is home for you?” she asked softly.

Astra paused at the absurdity of the question. “I suppose… Rome.”

“You suppose?”

“It’s not that simple. You have never known anything but these lands. It’s different for me. I’ve traveled widely since the age of nineteen. Any time I try, no matter how hard, the memory of my tribe and where we settled doesn’t come to mind. Save for a few vague smells and the sound of water, my childhood is a blank patchwork.” Astra’s face scrunched as she tried in vain to identify the familiar scent she had come across a few months ago. She shook her head. An ache asserted itself in her croaking voice “It’s been so long. I don’t recognize this place. I’m afraid I don’t know where I belong.”

“What if you were wanted here?” Alex scooted closer, her eyelashes fluttering against Astra’s neck. “What if you had a reason to stay? What would Rome say about it?”

After a long moment of silence, Astra finally found her voice. “I don’t know.”

The weight against her shoulder rolled off. Seconds passed wherein Astra could feel the gaze upon her. It ended when Alex rested her head back down. Astra brought her fingers to the long, full hair cascading over them. Stroking through it, her thoughts slowing to near obscurity. She would never take this for granted – the quiet surrounding her and a lover fast asleep beside her. Just how long she could go without this again brought on a stab of anxiety.

She winced. Why couldn’t she just enjoy the moment? Instead of fearing the worst? Then again, at least she had a future to worry about. Some did not survive long enough to have one. She should count herself lucky.

A lullaby of chirps echoed in the fronds. The cool air suddenly hit her skin. Shivering, Astra pulled at the hem of her cloak until it covered their lower halves.

Alex’s voice cut through the din of crickets. “Teach me how to fight.”

Astra stared up at the leafy canopy and sighed. “How many times must you ask me?” Her fingers curled around the tuft of hair in her grasp. She tightened her grip, broaching the divide between playful and threatening. “You are testing my good will. Do I have to whip you for impertinence?” she asked, only half joking.

“I wasn’t asking this time.”

Several replies sprung to mind. Some biting; all logical as if spoken straight from her fellow soldiers. They were brilliant in strategy and combat, sly and exacting in their execution. But rarely compassionate. The only human contact not involving the spatter of warm blood on their faces came in the form of raucous one-nighters if a village happened to be pro-Roman enough.

“Why should I help you?” asked Astra, unable to feed the venom into her voice. What had this woman done to her to make her soft? One night of lying with her and all of a sudden Astra’s patience was as gentle as the fingers that brought Alex off. “I have made you a woman. What more could you possibly ask of me?”

Alex scoffed. “You did not make me a woman. Even you do not have that power.”

“Perhaps. Have I given you nothing, then?”

Propping herself up on her elbow, Alex met the desperation scratching Astra’s voice. “No,” she murmured, shaking her head. “You gave me… you gave me more than sex, Astra. I felt special in your arms. I felt cared for. If only you knew how much I have sought it and what little I did to deserve it. Nothing good ever came of silence. I’m afraid you’ll think me petty.”

“The pitiful do not give voice to their faults. Not so openly before others. They sit and stew like an overripened peach. If I am not mistaken, you are far from puckered, sickly sweetness.”

Alex smiled, chuckling. Their shared amusement brought back the heat in her cheeks.

“You are braver than any general I have served under.” Astra reached out to push a strand of hair behind Alex’s ear. As she did so, her thumb accidentally, even selfishly, traced the curve of an ear. “If they knew what strength I am facing now, they would turn tail and run back to their Roman villas.”

“If that is true then why are you so hesitant to teach me?”

Inevitability struck Astra like a knife wound. She cringed inwardly. The thought of having to explain herself made her sick and furious at the same time. Still, she felt she owed it to Alex.

Once she gathered the words, she gave a long sigh. “I don’t want you to suffer as I have. Taking a life entails more than how you hold your blade. It can’t be taught. I’m afraid for the day you learn that lesson.”

“I know it’s not easy. I’ve thought day and night about what must be done. Someone has to survive all that slaughter. Someone must bring justice.” Alex placed her hand on Astra’s cheek. “I won’t lose myself.”

“You sound so sure,” Astra mused solemnly. Losing a battle never hurt so much.

It could have been surrender. If it was, Alex didn’t gloat. Instead, she sank back into Astra’s arm, head on her shoulder, and stared up into the trees.

“We should return to camp,” said Astra, eyes lingering over the raised flesh of Alex’s curves, “and warm ourselves by the fire.”

“But I never got to…”

A weightless sensation fluttered in her stomach. Astra took the hand brushing the bone of her clavicle. She brought the fingers to her mouth and kissed them. “There will be time for that later.”

“Is that a contract?”

Astra returned the smile and, for once, it wasn’t black or humorless. “Not at all. But that doesn’t mean I will not profit spectacularly.”

A deep crimson filled Astra’s cheeks. “How can you be certain?”

“I have every confidence in you, my pearl.”

The giggle from Alex rang out in the mist. It spurred Astra to kiss her. Being laughed at usually stirred ire, so the fact that no prickly barbs had come to mind perturbed her. She couldn’t solve that mystery, but she did know she needed to kiss those rosy lips.

Alex continued to chuckle against the insistent, fervent kisses while Astra struggled to ignore the shouting of her heart and the realization that she might have fallen in love with that laugh from the very first note.

When they finally broke apart, they saw sense to get back into their clothes. Midnight had since passed and frost was collecting on the grass tips. It was much too cold to sleep away from a hearth. Their heat source awaited them back at camp, safe and nurtured in the hands of the next soldier on watch.

Astra started in the direction of camp when a voice held her back.

“You don’t think we should return separately?”

Although the fire was not visible from her vantage point and the voices of her soldiers were undetectable, she knew the fire was toasty and that the voices would be hushed and sleepy. Astra turned to address Alex’s reservations. Unease creased her face. Unease brought on by a reasonable question; one Astra was more than willing to allay.

“They are the only family I have in this life. I have nothing to hide from them.”

“What about from Rome?”

“Britannia is miles from the capital. We are inconsequential to them. What happens between two people…” Astra licked her lips, hedging for the words to describe their situation, if they had one. “I possess no tokens,” she explained slowly, measuring the weight of her words, “or discs to signify the battles I have fought in. My station does not afford the consideration heaped upon male officers. My auxiliary of females is a mere oddity to be sent on errand. Instead of having the honor of fighting in grand campaigns, they are made to muddy their boots in the filth of undesirable territory. Places a Roman citizen would not bother to set foot in.”

A familiar torment closed around Astra’s throat. Rome’s disregard might have been bearable if it did not extend to her soldiers. They worked hard for their commander, exhibiting more loyalty and courage than males of their rank received medals willy-nilly.

She swallowed her anguish, unwilling to give herself away. As hard as she tried, though, something loosened in her eyes.

“You don’t have to carry it by yourself,” said Alex.

The night cooled the wetness on Astra’s cheeks. “What of Rome?” she echoed, chuckling forlornly. “There is no conceivable answer to that question. It is of no concern of mine how my behavior is perceived by those who live in palaces. I am who I am.” She released the tension in a gusty sigh and mustered an expression of reassurance: the tiniest smirk. “That is all.”

Alex’s gaze did not break, not for pity or any other reason. The unease of moments ago had smoothed the wrinkles. A slow smile surfaced to her mouth. She drew near so that their arms brushed in passing. “And you say I am brave…”

Astra raised a stern eyebrow. “Well, one person alone cannot have a monopoly on bravery.”

Alex snickered and continued on toward camp. Astra followed closely behind with a wide grin plastered on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End note: I apologize for the painful amount of exposition. Shaking off writer’s block didn’t allow me to stick to my usual editing standards. I promise to make more of an effort next time!!


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